


Perhaps there is only abyss

by thatwriterinthecorner



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-05-13
Packaged: 2018-03-30 10:54:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3934132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatwriterinthecorner/pseuds/thatwriterinthecorner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr prompt "I didn't know you could sing" Cullen/Trevelyan.</p><p>The Inquisitor prays to the maker following the Seige of Adamant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perhaps there is only abyss

**Author's Note:**

> That I managed to make this prompt angsty is probably a skill of some kind. 
> 
> Words from the Chant belong to Bioware, of course.
> 
> Send me a prompt here: http://inquisitor-curvo.tumblr.com/post/118893880248/send-me-two-or-more-characters-and-a-number-and

It was late. It wasn’t unusual for Cullen to be up so long past nightfall, nor was it unknown for him to seek solace in the small Chantry within the fortress. It was, however, the first time he’d come upon it so late to find it occupied.

He stopped halfway through the courtyard, listening to the song from within. Someone was singing the chant – singing it as one might in a Chantry service, lifting the words that the Maker might hear.

“I have faced armies,

With You as my shield,

And though I bear scars beyond counting, nothing

Can break me except Your absence.”

As he listened Cullen realised he knew this voice, although he had never before heard her sing.

“When I have lost all else, when my eyes fail me

And the taste of blood fills my mouth, then

In the pounding of my heart

I hear the glory of creation.”

She was singing the Canticle of Trials, and her voice broke during the verse before strengthening with new resolve. He hadn’t known she’d returned yet, had thought her party still on the road. After the battle at Adamant she had remained in their camps in the Waste to deal with the Venatori remnant hiding there.

“You have grieved as I have.

You, who made worlds out of nothing.

We are alike in sorrow, sculptor and clay,

Comforting each other in our art.”

He had yet to speak to Evelyn about what she had witnessed in the Fade, although he had read her reports – the fear demon, Stroud’s sacrifice, the narrow escape through the rift the Wardens had made. Listening to her now felt… It was an intrusion, and he made as if to turn away, pausing when she started on the next verse.

“Do not grieve for me, Maker of All.

Though all others may forget You,

Your name is etched into my every step.

I will not forsake You, even if I forget myself.”

Once again her voice broke, and he caught the edge of a sob. Hesitating only a moment, Cullen strode forward towards the Chantry door, candlelight spilling through the crack she’d left when she’d entered.

Evelyn was not kneeling before the statue of Andraste. She still wore her black and gold leathers, and in one hand she held a taper with which she was still lighting the candles. When she started on the next verse, by force of habit he sang along with her, years as a Templar instilling the words within his breast.

“Maker, though the darkness comes upon me,” they sang together, “I shall embrace the Light. I shall weather the storm.” She turned at the sound of his deeper voice joining hers, smiling wanly in the faint golden light. “I shall endure,” she sang, her voice softer now. “What you have created no one can tear asunder.”

“How long were you listening?” she asked, continuing her progress lighting the candles and making no effort to hide the tear tracks upon her cheeks.

“Not very,” he admitted, “I heard you from the sixth verse. I had never heard you sing – didn’t realise you could.” He blushed, hand reaching for the back of his neck. “I mean… I…”

But she just laughed, a slight exhale of air and a smile. “I grew up in the circle, Cullen. It wasn’t just the Templars who had the Chant drilled into them at every corner.” She sighed. “I had grown lax in my devotions, and after…” she swallowed, “After Adamant I wanted to reaffirm myself before the Maker.”

“Why Trials?” he asked softly.

She closed her eyes. “The Maker is the rock to which I cling,” she recited, no longer singing but simply speaking words in a hushed voice, barely above a whisper. “Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide. I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond.”

She was picking out lines, skipping through the Chant as she selected those that resonated within her. “I am not alone.”

“Cross the Veil and the Fade and all the stars in the sky,” Cullen recited in answer. She nodded, and drew a wracking breath.

“Rest at the Maker’s right hand, And be forgiven.” The taper in her hand had burned out and she looked down at it for a moment before lowering her hand. Cullen moved forward then and enveloped her in his arms. She was shaking, and he stood still as she clung on to him, her tears renewed.

The storm raged around them, but they tethered each other amidst the thunder.


End file.
